as constant as the Northern Star
by il-sole-le-stelle
Summary: A sequel or companion of sorts to "take me home to my heart". There is a place where there are no inhibitions and nothing to hide, and they find it. AU, Alec x Clary.


**Author's Note**

Many thanks to** Adria (Majesta Moniet)** for the prompt _Alec and Clary __experimenting with sex runes_. Otherwise, I never would have written something like this. Also, words can't express my gratitude towards **Mel (thalia_csiny) **for helping me beta this fic, giving me a lot of guidance and correcting any inaccuracies which I had written in earlier drafts. This was VERY difficult to write, partly because I had absolutely no idea where I was going with this fic. In the end, I just let Alec and Clary direct me.

And just to explain, in case it doesn't seem clear after you finish reading this, the effect of the sex runes is a little complicated. When I wrote this, what I had in my mind was that firstly, they release any inhibitions (especially considering that this is the first time Alec and Clary do it); they enhance and intensify any kind of sensation and emotion and finally, they do have, to a certain extent, the effect of a stamina rune.

So, enjoy and please do leave a review to let me know what you think about this fic!

* * *

Maybe it was the residual adrenaline from their fight against the Iblis demons that had ambushed them on their way back to the Institute from the Pandemonium Club. They had gone with Isabelle to investigate an anonymous tip about a shape-shifting demon, an Eidolon, choosing its unsuspecting victims amongst the crowd in the club. It turned out to be a false tip and the three of them had waited for almost three hours for it to appear. Isabelle was annoyed, as expected, though her irritation soon disappeared once her attention was diverted by a good-looking Downworlder in the club, probably a faerie. She went off with him, leaving Alec and Clary to return to the Institute on their own.

The two of them had been caught off guard, barely hearing the three demons until they had been surrounded. It was their usual tactic- surrounding the prey, waiting for it to panic and lose its nerves. Alec was the alert one, sensing movement in his peripheral vision. He signaled to her that there were demons around them, and she gave a slight nod before she feinted to her right to distract the Iblis nearest to her. Iblis demons were not very bright, as she had learnt. It followed her, breaking the ambush circle, giving Alec a chance to run out of the circle and regain the advantage he would have by facing them directly. Plunging their seraph blades into an Iblis each almost in unison, they watched as both demons exploded into a rain of ashes. The last Iblis probably had some sense of self-preservation as it turned to escape down the other side of the alley. But it never saw Alec's shot coming. The trajectory of the arrow was near perfect as it embedded itself right in the heart of the Iblis from the back.

Maybe it was the new runes Clary had drawn on both of their wrists once they found themselves within the safety of the Institute. She had told him in the club, whispering conspiratorially into his ear right before they left, when they had some privacy away from Isabelle. _I saw them in my mind a few nights ago. And I had a feeling they were meant just for the two of us. Shall we try them out? _He caught every single word she said despite the loud music in the background and nodded slowly, as if still processing what she was saying, and watched the colour flood into her cheeks. She had been embarrassed, and as much as he did not want to admit, he had been too.

Maybe it was due to a combination of both factors that they now find themselves pressed against the door of Alec's room, hands all over each other, his just under her bra and hers on his back. His mouth is on hers, his bottom lip between her soft ones, as she bites gently on it, eliciting a moan from him. Their senses go into overdrive, and she wonders if it is from the effect of the runes. Her hands had shaken so much as she drew them from memory, first on her wrist, then on his. The runes are a pair, matching in a pattern of lines, so complex that they are all a mix of criss-crossing and interweaving lines and loops. Almost like how two people are when they come together, limbs tangled, skin on skin.

Reaching for the door knob, Clary gives it a sharp twist as they both stumble into the darkness when the door swings open. Immediately, her hands return to roaming the length of his lean body, feeling the taut muscles under his thin shirt. Somewhere in the hallway earlier, Alec has lost his jacket, leaving it on the floor. His mouth finds the nape of her neck after he sweeps her hair to the other side with one quick motion, trailing up and down in several circuits. She grabs fistfuls of his shirt, yanking him closer to her as if any gap between them is too unbearable. Tripping over the carpet, she pulls him along with her as they fall onto his bed, the weight of his body pinning her down.

It is Alec who pulls away now, his arms still around her waist as he looks her in the eyes and asks, "Are you sure about this?"

They had only started dating three months ago, after that assignment which had both of them confessing their feelings for each other. They were so close to losing each other and that had been something unthinkable. It was the same for them when they faced the Iblis demons earlier that night- that anything could have happened. They could have been one second too late from realizing they had walked into an ambush; Clary could have mistimed her feints or he could have missed his shot.

He remembers on that day, as they walked home, her hand in his, that he could not fight that feeling of overwhelming happiness. He knew he was walking back with her with a goofy smile on his face, which revealed every single emotion he was feeling. At the same time, he was fighting an almost losing battle with the other side of him that wanted to kiss her senseless in public there and then. And then she turned to smile at him, a smile that meant the world to him. That it was no dream she felt the same way for him. The expression in her eyes was one of wonder, as if she could not believe her luck, when he should have been the one with that thought. He had always watched her from a distance in the Institute, and then endured teases from Isabelle who saw and knew everything. He hated how easy he was to read, yet he hated how Clary could not tell how much he liked her, so much that looking at her became difficult.

And now, he sees her looking up at him with that same expression of wonder and an additional layer of desire in her eyes. She does not have to reply for him to know her answer, but he wants to hear it from her anyway. "Yes," she says, loud and clear, erasing any doubt he ever had. Guiding her hands to the hem of his shirt, he holds his breath as she lifts his shirt with one clean movement, only raising his arms slightly for her to tug it off from his head. She wants to do the same for hers, but he stops her, his hands shaking a little as he unbuttons her shirt, one agonizing button at a time. He pushes her shirt open, taking in the sight of her. His stomach clenches as he struggles to maintain some sense of sanity. All he can think of is how she would feel like against him, how soft she would be and how she fits just right against him.

She wraps her arms around him as he bends down to brush his lips against her collarbone, then trailing down to the top of her breasts and then to her stomach. Her body arches against his, her skin against his, sending fire coursing through his veins. Every single nerve ending seems to be more sensitive than usual. Each time her skin touches his is like sending intensifying shots of electricity down her entire body, pleasurable and addictive.

He savors the feel of her fingers against his back, as she traces his Marks of the runes on his shoulder blades down the length of his back. His hands find the clasp of her bra and he feels her tense a little before she continues caressing the sensitive spot on his neck. He unhooks and removes it, tossing it to the side as he lowers his mouth to one of her breasts, sucking on it lightly. Her hands are now in his hair, her grip tight as he feels her tremble against him.

Clary feels his mouth move to the other breast several moments later, his tongue teasing before he takes it whole. This time, her nails break the skin on his back before her hands move to his front, dragging down its contours, from his collarbone all the way down to the flat of his stomach. They finger the button of his jeans, her fingertips trailing the area just above the waistband, as if she is waiting for a sign from him. He breaks away from her just long enough for him to undo the button and zipper, and then he lowers himself carefully onto her, his mouth on her shoulders, nipping with his teeth and then teasing with his tongue. He distracts her with kisses and murmurs against her skin as he removes both of their remaining clothing, a tremor in his fingers.

She takes his fingers and presses them to her lips, wanting to soothe any worry he has. _That gesture is typical of Clary_, he thinks. How she would always kiss his fingers when he gets anxious, nervous or even when he feels unsure about himself. She would take his hands after he runs them through his hair, and then press her lips to them. The feel of her lips against his fingertips is his undoing, even though he knows they are one of the most sensitive parts of the human body. But he cannot stop his body from reacting the way it does, shuddering and shivering in utmost pleasure.

He presses against her as her legs wrap around him. His mouth comes down on hers as he enters her, slowly at first. When she arches against him in pain or in pleasure, he pulls away slightly and pauses to gauge her reaction. He gets his answer when she pulls him back, whispering, _it's just a little discomfort, that's all. _They kiss again, her mouth opening under his and their tongues meet in a dance of their own. Sliding in a few more inches, he feels the movements in her hips as she shifts to meet him. Her hips rock against his as she calls his name again and again, eventually softening to a murmur.

The sound of his name on her lips, to him, is almost the equivalent of saying those three words. She said it first to him, when they were in Central Park stargazing. Their hands were intertwined as they lay on the grass, her pointing out the Northern Star in the sky to him. He had always wondered why she loved to read up on subjects that were typically mundane, like astronomy, but he was glad she did. She told him then, _The Northern Star helped sailors navigate the seas in the past, to find their way when they got lost. And somehow, I think, no I know, you're my Northern Star, the compass that leads me back when I'm lost, when I feel as if I don't belong with everyone else in the Institute. I love you, my Northern Star. My Alec. _

* * *

She has always known about the pain and the discomfort, but actually experiencing it is a different matter altogether. The feeling of him being inside of her is unfamiliar. Their difference in height has her wondering most of the time how they would fit against each other, whether it would be awkward and clumsy the first time round. So it surprises her, this feeling of them joined together, how that difference does not seem to be an issue.

Her body gets used to the way he moves, as he withdraws and presses forward, hesitant initially until she relaxes. His movements become smoother and more consistent, but all she can think about is how the sound of his moan, muffled against her shoulder, drives her crazy. The sensation of everything overwhelms her, each time he shudders, each time his breath stills, each time his fingers caress her sides and each time his mouth bruises hers. With one last thrust, he collapses on top of her and she wraps her arms around his neck, trying to still the tremors in both their limbs.

"I love you, Clary," he manages to whisper in her ear, his breathing still laborious. And then it dawns on him that the sex runes Clary drew are much more than what he had thought- they did not affect only the physical, but also the emotional aspect.

* * *

Beneath the covers, she stretches, her muscles aching. _A good ache_, she thinks. He shifts next to her, pulling her closer into his arms, his fingers brushing the curve of her hips.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Their legs are tangled together, their naked bodies slick with sweat are pressed against each other. The skin contact still sends shocks of pleasure down his spine and sends his senses into overdrive. His heartbeat quickens and the shocks intensify as she curls to fit against him, almost every inch of his body is touching hers. Desire floods his entire body, like wildfire beyond control. She feels the same way too. He can hear her heart racing and feel her body flush up with heat.

"A little sore, but otherwise, I'm fine," she tells him.

"Do you think the effect of the runes has worn off?" He buries his face in her hair and laughs. Strands of her hair, dampened with perspiration, stick to her temple and the nape of her neck.

She turns over to face him, "I don't know. Why don't we find out?" The sides of her mouth turn upwards as she pulls him towards her, his lips meeting her parted ones.


End file.
